Not the Only Good Cop
by missykirstenblack
Summary: Natalie Fox returns home years later and takes on a job of a detective at the Gotham City Police Department. This will follow the timeline of Batman Begins. Rated for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Decided to revise the first chapter... 06/28/11**

Pain. That's all I felt as my head was lying on the cool hardwood floor. My hair drowned in a small pool of crimson. A trail of blood spilled from the others around the room. It would have been rather disconcerting if I was more conscious. It was odd though, that with pain, I also felt numb. Beyond the stinging sensation on my arm and the pounding of my head, I didn't _feel_ anything. I didn't _want_ to feel anything.

All I could do was just lie there for someone to find me…_again_. And with the waiting I couldn't help remembering what had just transpired moments before.

_It was well into evening by the time I pulled on a little dress that my parents bought me for my thirteenth birthday dinner party. A smile crept onto my face as I glimpsed down at the diamond necklace my parents bought for my birthday last year. I headed out of my room and into the hallway._

"_Now Rachel will be coming over in less than hour," I heard my mother's voice say from down the hall, "and I think Jack will be coming around the same time."_

_I couldn't help but roll my eyes at my mom. She was an organizing freak and she loved to go by schedules. Something that I was the complete opposite of. _

"_Thanks for the update, mom, I kind of already know that," I said, entering the lavish dining room. I threw her a grin as she glanced at me._

"_Well, you can't blame her. She's crazy," a low voice whispered in my ear from behind. I let out a laugh at my father's statement and the look on my mother's face. A steak knife was held in her hands and she lifted it up to show it to him, threateningly. He backed away, putting his hands up in an act of surrender._

"_You know I didn't mean that, sweetheart," he said nervously. However, she just rolled her eyes and set the steak knife down on the dining table next to a plate. Her lips curved up in a small grin as she strode up to him, and pecked him on the lips. I rolled my eyes once again at their little display, and visibly gagged._

"_Ugh…. Get. A. Room."_

_They both looked over at me with amusement. My mother slipped away from my dad's grip and went back to fixing up the table; dad joining in on helping her. They already warned me earlier in the day that I was to not help out with anything. And there definitely were no complaints there._

"_And you're uncle wants to come," she added, looking back at me. "You don't mind if he brings along two others, do you?"_

"_Who?" I asked confused. It was only going to be the six of us and then Rachel and Jack spend the night. _

_The regular chiming of the doorbell echoed throughout the entire home reached all of our ears. _

"_I'll get it," I told the two of them._

_I walked through the arch of the dining room, into the living room, and into the hallway where the front door came to sight. I extended my hand, gripping the doorknob, and pulled it open._

_My eyes widened in horror as they landed on a tall figure clad in black. It was no mistaking that it was a man with the way the individual was shaped. A ski mask covered his face, and I glanced at the lengthy knife in his gloved hand. Heart hammering in my chest, I took a step back and gripped my hand on the doorknob. _

_I swung the door forward but a black boot intervened. _

"_Get the damn gun!" I yelled. My foot stumbled from putting weight against the door and my face met the floor. _

"_Honey, you know not _—"

_Her voice stopped to suddenly and I lifted my head. From above, the man's hand was gripping a handle and my eyes landed on her. A crimson covered blade protruded from her back. Each little droplet falling from the blade, causing my body to shake. I couldn't help just staring as he pulled out the weapon from her body. However, my shock disappeared as her body fell to the ground in a heap._

_My eyes immediately went to the small table located near the door, which was conveniently near me. I scooted closer before the man could notice my movement and opened the small drawer to see the small handgun. Remembering how my dad taught me how to turn the safety off, I whirled around and shot the man in the leg._

_He crumpled to the ground in pain, cursing._

"_Honey, what the hell _—"

_My eyes immediately traveled to my father, who entered the room, with a gun in hand himself. I watched his eyes widen at the scene before him. _

_I didn't notice there was another man behind me until an arm snaked around my neck. The muscles of the man nearly suffocated me and the sound of gunshots deafened my ears. I watched my dad drop to his knees and then his torso dropped to the ground._

"_Got the damn girl _—"

_I didn't hear the rest when I pulled the trigger of the gun to the ground, hoping to get the man's foot. His sudden screams were my answer that my aim was accurate. He let go of me immediately, and I took no time in turning around and pulling the trigger point blank._

_I didn't see the remnants of the man's face when a fist connected to my cheek. _

_It was a third man._

_I fell back, dropping the gun, and grabbed a hold of my face. My body connected with the ground hard and I shut my eyes in pain. I could taste the blood building up in my mouth. Tears formed in my eyes as I was lifted up by my hair and I opened my eyes to see the third assailant only inches away from my face. _

_He looked no different than the other two._

_I spat in his eye and he momentarily let go. However, he caught my arm and twisted it._

_CRACK!_

_I could hardly see anything as tears swam in my eyes and I let out an ear piercing scream._

_A hand covered my mouth and I knew it was covered by a glove. I didn't take any more chances as I bit down as hard as possible. The man drew his hand back but not before I could draw blood and, disgustingly enough, some flesh. I drew my leg up and swiftly kicked him in the private area, causing him to lean over in more pain. I dove to the ground, and grabbed the gun. Before he could react, I shot him in the chest. The man fell to the ground, clutching his fatal wound._

"Wh — _w _— _why… here?" I asked the man, staggering for breath. My legs gave way and I landed next to the man. Blood dribbled from my mouth as I looked at the man._

"_Happy Birthday."_

_I stared at the man to see his eyes flutter back inside his head and he was no longer breathing._

_It was until a couple of seconds after the man died, did I feel the full extent of the pain. I couldn't help the cry that exited my lips as I laid myself on the ground, making sure the gun was beside me all the while._

My world was slowly fading in and out. As much as I wanted to fade into the abyss of unconsciousness, the mind numbing pain would not allow me. I didn't notice the scream of the neighbors as they came to investigate what was all the noise. And I didn't realize the blaring sounds of the ambulance and police. Footsteps rushed into the house and I did not bother to get up. Everything _hurt_ like _hell_.

"Oh. My. _God_."

"Is anybody still alive?"

"What the hell happened?"

"It's a damn bloodbath."

These comments seemed to fly by when I saw movement from the corner of my eye. The first man that I shot was still alive and he had his gun pointed to a medic, who was trying to check the second assailant was still alive.

"You are in no condition to —"

The voice of the authority who spoke was drowned out by a loud bang, and the armed man laid limp.

"Natalie!"

Through the haze of pain, I could only tell that the voice was familiar. A groan of pain escaped my lips as I felt multiple hands move me. They also removed the gun that I held. My eyes stung with tears that spilled onto my face. It was only after several seconds that my world turned black.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: It's been waaay too long since I've updated this fic and I thought I'd do just that. This is now in the present time in Batman Begins. I hope you all enjoy the chapter and sorry if there are any mistakes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this besides Natalie....**

The vibration against my thigh causes an irritated sigh to escape my lips as I pull out the black phone. A name flickers across the screen and I click the green call button to answer.

"Hello, Commissioner."

"Where the hell are you?" a demanding voice barks from the other end of the call. "I want your ass back at the PD now."

"I went back to the crime scene where David Johnson was murdered," I reply, rolling my eyes. "What's wrong? Did somebody finally succeed in setting a bomb over there?" I add sarcastically, but with the crime rate in this city you never know who'd be crazy enough to do just that. 'Or smart enough.'

"What's wrong is that you didn't answer your phone after the tenth call," the commissioner retorts with a snaky tone. "And your damn talkie is off when Stephens tried contacting you. So I expect you to get here, _now_."

And with that last _command_, my hearing is met with the sound of a dead tone. Placing the phone back in my jeans pocket, I reach for my talkie hidden by my black, lengthy and worn-out trench coat and press the knob on it. After exiting the building, I duck underneath the yellow tape that was put up earlier by the patrol cops. 'Now where is he?'

With my eyes roaming the rather vacated parking lot, they land on a man leaning against my raggedy, grey 1995 Mazda 626 Sedan.

"Hey, Gerard," I greet, getting closer to the car and my partner-against-crime. He doesn't look bad at all for a man who is about to turn forty. His tall and built frame helps him out with his job, or maybe this job gave him the shape he has now. Either way, it's a wonder how he hasn't gotten himself a wife with his light green eyes and soft green hair.

Gerard Stephen's face breaks out into a small smile as he looks back and forth at the car and I.

"You still haven't gotten a new car?" he asks, walking towards the passenger's side. Twisting the car key in the hole, the door of the driver's side unlocks and I flick the switch that automatically unlocks the other three doors.

"With the wage I get," I scoff, throwing a grin his way and we both close our doors simultaneously. Turning on the ignition, I begin to drive out of the parking lot and out onto the street but not before noticing the look on Gerard's face.

"What?"

"You know, sometimes I think I know why but then I don't," he says, staring at me in curiosity.

"And what would that be?" I ask, glancing his way before looking back at the road ahead of me.

"You have millions in your bank account. You could've gotten a job that made you a billionaire but you took on the most dangerous job in Gotham?" he finishes his list off with a question that looms in and out of my head at times.

"It's not all about the money, Ger. Sometimes in life you've made horrendous mistakes that you can never forgive yourself for and I can't. So I took on a job that would hopefully repent what I've done," I tell him, keeping my eyes on the road though I'm not aware of what I am doing. My thoughts wander off to what happened several years ago but I blink my eyes a couple of times and brought back to the present. I notice that we are in the parking lot of the Gotham City Police Department and turn off the engine but neither one of us moves from our seats.

"You don't plan on telling me what you've done are you, Nat?"

"Not by a long shot," I reply shortly. We both sit in silence as a thought suddenly crosses my mind.

"You didn't by chance tell Loeb that I was ignoring my phone or talkie, did you?"

"Do you think I would?" he questions, tossing me a knowing look and I roll my eyes at who it must have been who tipped the pissed off man.

"Well, I guess he's cooking up more bullshit while he's in the process of rambling about my mistakes like he's been doing the entire month," I grumble and Gerard nods his in agreement as a smile cracks on his face.

"You know, it's probably because you've been getting Falcone's men arrested. And since we can never put the blame on Falcone, there's basically no use," he says.

"But there is a use. We haven't been able to catch Falcone's men so many times in such a short period. They're slipping up way too many times and that opens up the observation that Falcone might slip up himself. And we can get Harvey Dent or I can persuade Finch to help out," I tell him, getting out of the car and he contemplates it for a second until he shakes his head as we walk towards the building.

"Nat, that's just—I don't want you to get hurt. And Falcone already wants your head," he states, eyes showing his genuine concern on my safety. "I want him in prison as much as you do, but it's impossible."

"So am I the only one who thinks it's possible to catch the-so-called _man_?"

"Yeah, you are," he says, letting out a little chuckle as we enter the workplace.

"I don't see what's so funny about that, but I guess you can explain it to me when I come back from the asshole's office," I say, leaving him with his head shaking about the name of our boss. Making my way up to his office by the stairs, I walk through his door to find a whole party of every head of each unit, sergeants, and lieutenants. 'Hmm…so he decided he wants an audience to see the humiliation that I will not give the gratification of giving him. I guess it resorts to this whenever detectives help the force. No wonder there are so many corrupt cops.'

"My birthday's not until another five months."

"What the _hell _is this?!" the bald commissioner shouts, slamming a thick stack of papers onto his desk.

"Those are police reports, _sir_," I reply calmly, raising an eyebrow up at his unnecessary attitude. His dark brown orbs narrow considerably as he stares at me. "Is there something wrong?"

"These reports are filed in under your investigations by patrol officers," Loeb spits out, "and the men arrested are claiming to testify that they do not work under Falcone."

"Is there something wrong that _I _did?"

The large, six foot man moves closer to me, forcing my head to tilt up and stand my ground. 'It's like this man is just waiting for me to crack so he can have another shouting match.'

"It's useless catching these men so quit it or you'll be demoted," he says in a threatening tone.

"You've already demoted me twice before, _Commissioner_," I retort, neither able to keep my cool one hundred percent under control nor caring about what I just said.

"Nearly half the men in County are there because of you!"

"That means I'm doing such a damn good job that you should drop the shitty attitude, shut the hell up, and show some damn gratitude!" I reply with such edge to my tone that he takes a step back away from me and looks rather speechless. Turning my back to the Commissioner Loeb, I walk through the door and begin to decide whether I should take the elevator or the stairs when I hear a pair of footsteps follow me out.

Not wanting to wait for the elevator to rise up to this floor, I swing the door to the stairs open and hold it for the man following me.

"Hey there, Sergeant," I say, giving him a little grin as I am not over the man who resembles an irritating rash. The door slams behind us as we go down the stairs.

"You know he's going to make your life a living hell, Nat," the bespectacled man informs me.

"My life's been a living hell before I've worked here," I remind him, and his mustache twitches and I see a small smile on his face. "Anyways, how are you all?"

"We're all doing pretty fine," James Gordon replies. "Barbara's been meaning to ask you to come over for dinner sometime. Jimmy and Barbs Junior miss you, too."

The thought of James and his family lets a smile cross my features. The little boy only nine years old and the little seven year old girl are completely adorable and I used to baby-sit them from time to time whenever James and Barbara wanted an evening alone together.

"I'll drop by sometime next week for sure," I assure him as we open the door to our designated floor. We both head over to Gerard who's standing and arguing with another cop. Greasy, brown hair sits on his head like a mop over his plump face that has patches of stubble in various areas. A low whistle escapes his lips as his eyes look me up and down, causing me to roll my eyes.

"You shouldn't be covering up so much, Nat Kat. Maybe going out to lunch would help loosen you up some," the large man says.

"Sweet and simple…no."

"Why not? I thought we have such great chemistry?" he says, letting out an obnoxious snort.

"Whatever you say, Flass," I reply. "I hope you know that I'm really planning on torturing you."

"Ooh, harsh there, Nat," he taunts me, eyes practically gleaming. "I'd say Loeb went vicious on your ass today."

"I'm going on my lunch break to see my uncle," I tell Gerard, ignoring the pathetic excuse of a man. 'And is he going to get _his _ass kicked if I happen to catch him alone.'

Leaving the men to themselves, I exit the building and get into my car and drive off onto the street.

I find myself weaving through the large crates that reach up to the ceiling and eventually find my way into the large clearing.

Weaving my way through the large crates that reach up to the ceiling, I eventually find my way into the clearing where my uncle happens to have his desk. Finally reaching his desk, I place the white paper bag on it's flat surface and begin to look around. 'Now where is he?'

"Lucius? Uncle Lulu?" I call out, using one of his infamous nickname as I sit down on a computer chair. My eyes settle on the laptop and a smile creeps onto my face as I turn it on. Waiting for my uncle to come and for my laptop to start up, I pull out my container from the bag. The sweet-smelling aroma fills my nose and I open my order and begin to eat. "Fine! If you don't want your tortellini I guess I'll have it!"

A loud bang echoes from beyond another set of crates that my back is facing but I don't bother to turn around as I begin to type in my password and my screensaver takes up the screen.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's your day been so far?" a low voice greets me and I hear approaching footsteps from behind.

"Another homicide and I'm thinking it's from the same person. The state of his house was not pretty at all because of the blood was—"

"Nat, if I'm going to eat, then I don't want to hear about this quite yet," Lucius interrupts as I type away to enter the GCPD database.

"Hey, you asked," I remind him and click on a set of files. "Anyways, how was your day?"

"Well, if you looked up—"

"_Nat, I'm back at the PD and the security at Johnson's condo building allowed me access to their tapes. Loeb's going to call you any minute soon_," a voice breaks out, echoing through the entire area. The source of the sound came from my talkie, and just like Gerard said my phone begins to vibrate. Pulling out my phone, I press the call button to accept and put it on speaker as I begin type up a quick reminder to myself about the my idea of how David Johnson's blood was smeared across the floor.

"What?"

"_What?_ What do you mean '_what'_?" the angry voice of the commissioner yells from the speakers. "You aren't at the PD, Fox! And according to an inside source, Gerard is doing all the work on your case together!"

"Why is this _inside source_ even snooping around? Isn't he or she supposed to help their own partner and worry about their own cases? And I am working on the case, I just had to get my laptop back from reparations," I inform Commissioner Loeb with a mild and curious tone, not one hint of utter disrespect. "I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

Not wanting to hear voice that nearly drives me insane, I press the red button and heave out a sigh. Putting my hand between my head, I close my eyes for a couple seconds before getting up after closing my laptop screen. 'I have it feeling that the _inside source_ is Flass, the jackass.'

"Nat," I hear Lucius's voice, reminding me that I need to get to work so I get up from the seat. As I turn to face my uncle, my eyes land on a man right next to him. Slightly tanned complexion running along his stubble-free visage and his dark brown hair slicked back, allows me to see his dark blue eyes. His eyes clearly read surprise as he stares right back at me and apparently so do mine.

"_Hey, we should go to the morgue as soon as we're done with the tapes. They finished with the autopsy_," Gerard's voice echoes once again in the room, breaking my gaze from the man. Reaching for my talkie, I respond in agreement with his statement and turn it off.

My eyes land on my uncle as he looks at me rather concerned as does the blue eyed man.

"I'm sorry, Luci. I guess I'll have to reschedule our lunch together. David Johnson was murdered and so he's an added case to the rest of the cases I was assigned to earlier this week," I tell him, reaching up to give him a kiss on his cheek. "The ass loves to get his baby tantrums out on me, especially since I got ten of Falcone's men arrested last week."

Turning towards the familiar looking man, I hold out my hand to be met with a calloused hand.

"Nice to meet you," I say politely and gather my laptop and container from the desk. My legs carry me while I wave back without turning around. "Thanks for fixing my computer. I'm coming tomorrow night by the way!"

"Get some sleep!" I hear my uncle's voice call out behind me.

Upon heading into the station, I head into the office that I share with some other detectives.

"Look at this," Gerard says, holding up a plastic bag. With the bag in my hands, my eyes narrow as I turn the bag to see the entire object.

"You've got to be kidding me," I mutter, observing the thin object in the bag.

"That's exactly what I said," he says, gazing at the thin card that contains the picture of a joker with specks of dried blood splattered across the card. "And it seems as if he's playing a joke."

"Where'd you find this?" I ask, glancing at the papers and reports of the murder on my desk.

"It wasn't me. It was the diener at the morgue," he tells me. 'When did he go to the morgue?' I look at him in a questioning manner. "When you left for your lunch break, I admit I dropped by and their were only some things I saw before I came back," he adds, knowing the question that I was going to ask.

"No traces of DNA, I presume?"

"None," he replies, letting out a sigh. "But the tape shows them walking into Johnson's room."

"So there's more than just one?" I ask and in response he nods his head.

"Get closer so you can see the video," he says and I comply as he clicks on play. The black screen flickers to life, creating a black and white contrasting of a fancy hallway. Four men emerge from the elevator and progress down the hallway. As they proceed down the hallway towards where the camera is located, I get a closer look at what these men look like. Three of the men are dressed in regular jeans and worn out jackets, carrying guns and concealing their faces with masks. Not the regular balaclava masks, but _clown masks_. The fourth man, who had no firearm on him was dressed in a worn out suit with shoulder length hair noticeable from the back, raps his knuckles on the door. The door swings open after several seconds of knocking, revealing a startled David Johnson. His facial expression turns into one of fear as the man wearing the suit talks to him, causing Johnson to back into the room and giving the man a free walk into the room with a struggle from the victim. The last man to go in the room glances up, facing us. He raises his gun and the tape abruptly ends.

A couple of seconds pass by before I let out an involuntary shudder.

"That was disturbing," I admit to him. Gerard glances at me with a surprised expression.

"Which part?" he asks curiously.

"The clown masks get to me a little. Never really liked them when I was a little kid," I tell him and he lets out a little chuckle. "It's not funny."

"Umm, I'd say it is," he says. "You nearly get killed most of the time and you go to the narrows a lot. I was starting to get the impression that nothing scares you."

"We all have our fears, Ger. Just like you and Oscar the Grouch," I say, getting a few papers together.

"Hey, he's a green monster that pops of a garbage can and it's pretty traumatizing on a kid," he defends himself.

"Uh huh. That's why basically everyone in our generation has watched Sesame Street and has not expressed major fear from a puppet," I say, grinning at the thought.

"Come on, let's head to the morgue," he mumbles, face reddening as I laugh out loud at his embarrassment.

**A/N: Thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoyed it!**


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